


if you bite it, you own it

by V_fics



Series: I Can't Believe It's Not Wincest! [5]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Kinky Gen, Love Bites, Non-Consensual Touching, Other, Possessive Dean Winchester, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 07:02:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29713425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/V_fics/pseuds/V_fics
Summary: It’s not that they’re incestuous, it’s just that Dean will exploit any social cue to declare that Sam’s his.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester
Series: I Can't Believe It's Not Wincest! [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2127897
Comments: 20
Kudos: 99





	if you bite it, you own it

**Author's Note:**

> The noncon touching warning is bc Dean doesn’t ask before giving Sam hickeys for the first time (in a relationship where they’re platonic but *gestures vaguely*)
> 
> Jesus Christ I need to figure out what to call this dynamic.

They’re unhealthy.

It's just a fact. He and Dean are unhealthy. Codependent, a psych doctor once said, and granted he hadn’t known them for very long, but Sam’s pretty sure he’d gotten that right. They’re unhealthy, codependent, enmeshed, incapable of functioning without each other.

And Sam doesn’t care.

He used to, maybe, back when it felt like all Dean (and Dad) ever did was lock him down and refuse to let him go, when he was pigeonholed into the role of little brother, the baby of the family, the one to be protected and never the one protecting.

Then at some point, between him and Dean surviving without Dad, between the visions and Dean refusing to let him die, between Dean letting him jump into the Cage, between soullessness, between the Trials, between Dean turning into a demon and for the first time in his life, abandoning _Sam_ —

At some point, he realised all he ever really wanted is to be with Dean.

And Dean lets him breathe now. It probably has to do with Sam chasing him down as a demon, chasing a cure for the Mark of Cain even it damns the rest of the world, chasing _Dean_ the way his brother’s always chased him. They need each other. They do.

If this were anyone else’s life, Sam might think of it as Stockholm Syndrome, falling for an environment he tried so hard to escape. And maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t.

He doesn’t care and he knows he should.

Dean is handsy. Dean gets possessive. Dean nudges him on the prospect of long-term-relationships and hides a smile when Sam tells him he’s fine as is with him. Dean’s got chronic abandonment issues and Sam will tell him as many times as needed, little brother isn’t going anywhere.

They’re a dozen dysfunctional disorders wrapped up in flannel and Sam doesn’t care.

Dean puts a hand in Sam’s back pocket, flashes a grin and practically starts necking him in the middle of a bar, just to watch a potential date raise his eyebrows, smile bashfully and walk away. Dean rolls his eyes the next day when a witness thinks they’re gay and jabs Sam in the ribs the way a brother would. Dean puts his hands on Sam’s chest and hauls him back from a suspect and tells him, “Not yet.”

It’s not that they’re incestuous, it’s just that Dean will exploit any social cue to declare that Sam’s his.

He should be bothered by this. He would have been bothered by this years ago. He’s not anymore.

Dean wakes him up one morning by sucking on Sam’s neck, and he almost punches him. Not for the act itself, but because Dean’s scraping teeth on skin and Sam’s halfway to thinking his brother went and got turned by a vampire overnight when Dean grumbles, pinning his hand down, and says, “Stop moving,” like Sam’s being an annoying kid, and he’s reassured his brother is mostly human.

But, one of them has to have some semblance of relative normalcy.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Dean hums noncommitally and drags his teeth against the expanse of flesh. Sam shivers. Even for them, this is weirdly intimate and crossing lines—and they’ve both walked in on each other having sex before. Dean’s always had weird fixation with his neck, always liked pressing the pad of his thumb against Sam’s vein and feeling the beat of his heart, but Dean’s mouth on his neck, braced for suction, tongue and teeth poking at the dip of his collarbone—is _bizarre_. 

“Relax,” his brother says, but the advice is followed up by his lips closing over Sam’s throat.

It’s not encouraging.

“You’re—“ Sam pries a hand loose and shoves him back by the forehead. He touches the dull ache on his neck and his fingers catch on rounding indentations. “You gave me a hickey?!”

“I’m giving you several hickeys,” Dean corrects languidly, tugging Sam’s hand aside and leaning back down.

“Why?”

“Just felt like it.”

“You couldn’t have _asked_ first?”

Dean mumbles something into Sam’s neck, though he stops immediately trying to get his mouth back on his brother’s bruising skin. Sam tugs him back by the shirt collar and a hint of a blush starts on Dean’s cheeks. He looks down, at Sam’s neck, instead of his eyes.

Figures. Dean will mark him up like he owns him. Dean would tuck himself into Sam’s heart if he could. Everything Sam is, Dean has a claim on.

He should be more annoyed about this.

“That barista at the coffee shop was flirting with you yesterday,” Dean gives a short shrug. “I want him to know you’re taken.”

“Dean.” Sam throws him a face. “There were other ways to do this. Including asking me.”

“Shut up,” the blush creeps down Dean’s neck. “It’s just...”

Sam drapes a hand over his eyes.

It’s just that Dean hates asking for anything, and Sam would give him anything, the same way Dean would give Sam anything, and everything between them is a mind game of guesswork and intuition because they don’t _really_ do the whole talking thing. They just push and pull and ask forgiveness if it goes wrong.

He lifts his hand and runs his fingers through his brother’s hair. It’s messy from sleep and the sight of it fills his chest with warmth.

They’re fucked up and he’s at peace with it now.

Sam leans back and tilts his head up, baring his throat. Dean smiles, satisfaction in his eyes, and leans down to close his mouth back over Sam’s neck.

“Just don’t get vampy on me,” Sam says. “And ask me next time.”

Dean chuckles into swelling skin.

“Promise,” he says, pressing a kiss to the mark, a very pleased smirk on his lips. He buries his face in Sam’s neck and Sam rests his hand over the back of Dean’s hair. Dean murmurs, “Thank you.”

A few hours later, they leave the motel to wrap up the case. The barista at the café smiles when he takes Sam’s order, then blushes at the hint of purple peeking over Sam’s shirt.

Afterwards, Sam grumbles, “Hedonist,” at Dean, tugging self-consciously at his collar, and Dean’s smile is far too smug, but he knocks their shoulders together and there’s only fondness in the resounding, “Love you too.”


End file.
